One More Drink
by Darkfire75
Summary: England/Latvia/France. Latvia, according to his profile, loves alcohol. France and England use this to their advantage, like the pedos they are.


_**Author's note:**__ Hehe, so I found out Latvia is a bit of an alcoholic. Don't believe me? Look at his bio. Here: __**"Despite being rather young, his profile also states that he drinks a lot of alcohol."**__ WTF Latvia XD Soooo, my friend gave me this idea that France and England could get him drunk (since they love to drink) and then I added in that Russia could find them and go all "kolkolkol" on their asses. 'Twas fun );D Tiny mentions of FrUk here, but what can you expect from me lol_

***

Latvia _knew_ he was in a bad situation. He had managed to avoid Russia's eye all throughout the meeting and had successfully made it out without being grabbed. Well, grabbed by _Russia_ anyway. France had somehow used his special 'little boy seeking powers' and found him just as he was leaving the building. He then swooped down on the poor boy and dragged him away to a local bar, saying something about trying his wine.

When Latvia protested that he was too young to drink, France merely laughed. "I have heard from unnamed sources that you are a bit of an alcohol lover, _oui_?"

Latvia's eyes widened. "O-Of course not!"

"Oh?"

"I-I'm too young to drink!" He was turning red under France's widening smirk.

"I see…so, the scent of this wine, _my_ wine, does not entice you?"

Latvia stared at the bottle of French wine in the other's hand. He unconsciously licked his lips. France chuckled. Latvia didn't like to mention that he had a soft spot for alcohol. Being around Russia for as long as he had, he'd acquired a certain taste for it. And he enjoyed it. A lot.

"W-Well…maybe just one glass…"

An hour later, and Latvia was on his twentieth glass of French wine. France was drunk and half-naked beside him, but Latvia didn't really care or notice. He was enjoying the feeling of being completely intoxicated. France was singing something and then his hand was on Latvia's thigh.

"You are such a good boy, Latvia," he cooed. "Do you like my wine?"

"Yes," the younger nation replied, downing another glass. "I like it a lot."

"Oho~? Then you will also like other French things, _oui_?"

"What do you—?"

"FRANCE, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" The voice was recognizable in an instant. France and Latvia turned towards the irate Englishman standing a few feet away from them.

"Ah, _mon cher_, welcome~" France greeted. "Care to join us for a drink?"

"No, I will _not_!" he spat. Then he rounded on Latvia. "And how dare you intoxicate this boy!"

"But _mon cher_, he wanted it!"

"Bollocks! You expect me to believe that?"

"It's actually true," Latvia mumbled, taking another sip from his glass. England gaped at him while France smirked.

"See?" the Frenchman teased. "Join us, _Angleterre_!"

"W-What makes you think I even WANT to get drunk?"

England felt grossly outnumbered as France and Latvia both stared him down until he was grumbling and shuffling to take a seat and ordering a beer. Another hour later, and all three were properly drunk. England was cursing America and banging his fist on the counter.

"Bloody ungrateful brat he is…" he groaned.

"_Mon ami_, you are drooling," France quipped.

"Shut up, you wanker, I am not!"

"Actually, you are," Latvia mumbled, reaching a hand up to wipe at England's face. England's green eyes widened and the next thing Latvia knew, he had a face full of drunken Englishman. Normally, his nerves would have kicked in and he would have been shaking so much, England would have fallen to the floor. But because he was drunk, and feeling a bit of a daredevil, he did nothing and let England slobber all over him (because it really couldn't be called a kiss).

France made a strangled sound behind them. "No fair, _Angleterre_!" he cried. "I saw him first!"

"Oh bugger off," England growled as he broke away from Latvia and flipped the Frenchman off. "The boy doesn't need your perverted hands touching him."

"Like he needs your pedophilic hands all over him then?"

"Shut _up_!"

And then Latvia watched as England launched out of his chair towards France, knocking him to the ground and ripping at his golden hair. The fight ended when France touched England's ass, to which the Brit responded by moaning and completely forgetting why he was beating up the other nation. Then they got up and stood around Latvia, each slinging an arm around his shoulders and grinning.

"Why don't we take you to our hotel room, Latvia?" France slurred. "We can show you a good time."

"Will there be more to drink?" he asked innocently.

"Oh yes," England smirked. "Lots more."

"All right then." They steered him towards the door and probably would have had their way with him at the hotel if they hadn't banged into a large wall. But Latvia instantly knew this wasn't an ordinary wall. This wall was soft…and had arms. When he looked up, he suddenly felt sober. And he began to shake. England and France were oblivious to what danger they were in.

"What's wrong with him?" England grumbled.

"I don't know," France replied. "Latvia? What's wrong?"

Latvia stared up into the smiling face of the tall Russian before him. But he knew the smile was fake for it didn't reach his cold, violet eyes.

"Comrades," he started and both England and France stiffened.

"R-Russia," England gulped. "P-Pleasure to see you here."

"_Da_," Russia smiled cruelly. He lifted his large hands and placed them on England and France's shoulders, nearly crushing them. "I see you have found something of mine."

The two gulped and looked at the tiny, shaking nation between them. "_O-Oui_, he got lost," France said nervously.

"I see. And so you decided to give him a few drinks?"

"I…"

Russia leaned down and let the lighting in the bar illuminate his face. "Comrade?"

France let out a whimper. England took his arm off Latvia's shoulder and backed away. "W-We'll just leave him to you now, Russia. He's in…good hands now."

"I don't think so," Russia replied playfully, taking a step forward. The look on his face was murderous even with his eyes upturned as though he were smiling. France grabbed England by his sleeve and yanked him away and the two made a run for it. Latvia watched as Russia went after them, uttering his infamous "kolkolkol" as he chased.

Then he fainted and the rest, as they say, is history.


End file.
